


Love me till I'm dead

by mimerswell



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Acceptance, Canon Divergence, Comfort/Angst, Drama, Explicit Language, M/M, One Shot, TB indeed, also love confession, anguish, basically red dead depression all over again, partly Unrequited love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 11:44:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18777604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimerswell/pseuds/mimerswell
Summary: Somewhat estranged, John and Arthur put aside their differences when Arthur's health deteriorates. In the course of his final days, both struggle with understanding what significance they really have for one another."Why does everything gotta be a fight with you…?" John sounded as defeated as he felt, as if each word was more painful to utter than the last.Words that, no doubt, would echo until there wasn't a mind left for them to haunt. "Fighting is all I've got left, Marston," he answered with a vague smile. "…the only part of me that's still me."





	Love me till I'm dead

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there!
> 
> Wouldn't recommend to read this fic if you're sensitive to depictions of sickness and death. Otherwise, go ahead, I myself found it very fulfilling to write this. 
> 
> Any spelling or grammatical errors, I apologize in advance for.
> 
> The title is from the song "This must be the place" by _Talking Heads. ___

"Don't fucking come near me, you hear… Just…stay…where you...where you are…"

He felt the wet grass between his fingers as he clenched on to the straws harder with each sharp wave of pain ripping through his chest. He both heard and felt the rattling in it with each strained breath he could barely take.

Arthur was bent over on the ground as if someone had punched him straight in the stomach. He shut his eyes so hard because a part of him truly feared they would pop out only from the sheer force from each deep and drawn out cough.

John kept his head lowered. He didn't want to see it… didn't want to hear it. He still did both. Arthur had made it clear he didn't want comfort or any help from the man that was the only family he had left so this was all he could do, all he could offer. To just _be there_ even if it felt absurd to stay in the background and _observe_.  

John’s lips were only a serious line on his face and each awful sound that reached his ears made him involuntarily jerk his head and look away for a second or two. As if he needed to channel what feelings the man's clear agony evoked within him.

He was hunkered down a few yards away from Arthur who had now buried his face to the grass as one weak arm kept a steady pressure over his diaphragm. It almost looked like the man was hugging himself. _Well, maybe he is_ … John's inner voice echoed somberly in his head.

John worked with a grass straw between his fingers, his elbows rested on the upper part of his thighs, absently ripping it to small pieces as he only remained silent. In his dark eyes, white clouds were reflected as he looked up to the sky. He blinked a few times, slowly. He closed his eyes eventually when Arthur's coughing had settled and instead was replaced with the man’s strained breathing from the intense minute of his attack.

"I-I'm _fine_ …" Arthur forced out when John's gaze had sought its way to him again. The man's voice no longer had the same power that John once had associated _all_ of Arthur with. It was gruffer than ever but also _weaker_ , as if every word he spoke took the last drop of energy he had left in his equally weakening body.

"Yeah…whatever you say, Morgan…" It came out plainly and close to a whisper and John didn't utter the words with sarcasm. He spoke them more with an inner acceptance…that it was up to the man himself to decide what he could manage and not. If he said he was fine, John would have to tell himself that lie as well.

John raised himself up and walked the few steps over to the man that had managed to sit up on his heels now. He reached out, offering a hand to him. Arthur swatted it away and heaved himself up with more effort than he was willing to show. Their eyes locked with one another's for a few seconds as they stood face to face. Arthur merely grunted and walked away to their horses as John's face showed close to no sympathy. Arthur didn't want it after all, had said as much whenever John or Abigail tried to offer it 

\-- 

It took a few minutes for Arthur’s strength to return enough so he and John could ride the short way back to their small and temporary camp somewhere in Cumberland Forest.

"Momma! They're back!" Jack shouted in that light and young voice of his. He jumped on the spot as he waited for his father and uncle to dismount their horses.

"Oouf…hi there big guy", John breathed out as Jack practically jumped up to him, knocking a bit of air out of him. "Haven't been gone for so long, have I?" he smiled and combed his fingers through his son’s dark hair. 

"You _have!_ You said we were gonna play when you got back and I've been waiting for _ages."_ He dragged out on the last word like only a child does, emphasizing its meaning even if they had been away for no more than an hour. 

John hadn't noticed that Abigail stood close by, the look on her face telling him that they needed to _talk._ Arthur saw it too from where he was still standing by his horse, patting and giving it a treat while he was at it. "Say, why don't _you and_ _I_ figure out something fun to do, kid? You can play with your pa later", Arthur offered with a smile that disguised most of the earlier tiredness hanging heavily over his face.

"Oh okay, uncle Arthur", Jack agreed easily enough before John had the time to object. The boy wiggled himself to show he wanted to be lowered down from his father's hold. 

Arthur walked away with the child, watching attentively as Jack eagerly showed him the way to some interesting _rocks_ he had found earlier that day.

"No luck, I reckon…" Abigail said when the both of them were out of earshot, an underlying disappointment in her tone accompanied by arms crossed. 

John shook his head before he lowered it, avoiding her eyes. He didn't tell her that they hadn't managed to hunt because he believed Arthur would die before his eyes only twenty minutes ago. "No…but we still got some food left haven't we?" 

"Yeah but John…even so, we need to be _prepared_. What we _do_ have is not much and besides that problem, the temperature's dropping each day. What happens when winter comes, huh?" 

 _She’s right,_ he thought. "Ain't no winter for a couple of months, Abigail Roberts." He said it mostly to be the positive of the two, not wanting to further build up the worry they both shared. 

She seemed more angered than reassured by that statement, noticeably biting down on her teeth. "What we _need_ is a safe place for Jack, John. A place that can be home for us, if only for a couple of months."

"I _know_ …I know…and we're gonna find that. I promise…" For John, those words _were_ the truth but he couldn't deny how distant it all seemed to be now.

\--

One night, John left the warm bedroll by the still glowing fire, still half asleep as he walked over to the small tent that was Arthur's.

The man had woken him up with his cries and mumbles in his asleep state. The words that escaped him were incoherent but one name was uttered frequently and John let out a sigh when he heard it again and again. 

He took a few quiet steps into the tent and kneeled by him to let a hand rest over the man's forehead, checking his temperature. It was getting far worse. Arthur was soaked and the sweat literally rolled down on him, like it always did when darkness fell nowadays. 

Arthur shifted in the bedroll and sounded like he was being haunted in whatever world he found himself in this night. John came to think of some plants that could help with the worst and he also wanted to do something about Arthur’s sweating.

He was about to leave for some water and a rag to clean him with when the man shot up and grabbed at his collar, yanking him down a few inches with one forceful motion. He looked like he was going to kill him and the surprising strength in his arm was serious and not something John could easily pull himself free from.

Arthur’s breaths were very heavy, his blue shirt all but plastered to his once strong chest as it rapidly moved up and down. John had started to breathe a little faster as well, his hands raising slowly as to show he meant no harm. His first instinct had been to yell something like 'what the _hell's_ wrong with you' and defend himself with a punch but as he watched him he...he wasn't so sure if Arthur even recognized him in that moment.

Arthur let out a sound resembling a quiet whimper, disoriented as he looked into the now black eyes that seemed so secure. His own eyes became more wet when he slowly returned to his senses, the dark reality he found himself in nothing more than a reminder of the _state_ he was in. He let go of John’s collar and looked away.  

John carefully moved his head back and sat down properly in the small tent, resting his arms over his knees. "You're burning up", he finally managed to say, the words so quiet he doubted he had uttered them at all at first.

"Is that _so?"_ Arthur chuckled dryly, the small laugh turning into a few wet coughs instead.

John was the one to look away this time, letting the man work his way through it because he wasn't allowed to do anything else for him. Arthur’s body twisted and bent over as he rolled to his side as to shelter himself from John's gaze that didn't linger.

He recovered quickly enough, John believing it was the man's stubbornness that did most the job. "That why you came here in the middle of night, Marston…To...to remind me of my goddamn _temperature_ …?" Arthur was angry. Bitter. Always like this during the nights.

 _"You_ woke me up. Said all kinds of shit in your sleep." John suddenly felt very tired and not in the sleepy kind of way. The past few weeks had been a challenge for all of them and even if he didn't reflect over it more than necessary, Arthur's situation had become _his_ situation. As strange and unpredictable as it was. "Was gonna try and do something about your fever before you fucking grabbed me like some madman."  

Arthur’s face shifted, the sarcasm that filled it so clearly before faded away as he realised John was only trying to help him. The dark haired man didn't look angry at all but his face was determined, showing that he refused this treatment. He sighed because of it but didn't let John's good intentions change a thing. "Guess I should be thanking you then. Would that make you _happy_ , huh?" he spat out.  

"Ain't about _thanking me,_ Morgan…"

"What _is_ it about then, Marston?" Arthur challenged, genuinely interested in what meaning he had for the other man. At the same time he was scared to death about finding out, already prepared to never get the answer he deep down hoped to hear.

He found it hard to swallow as he waited for John to come up with a good answer, _any_ answer, but the man didn't say anything and it left a bad taste in Arthur’s mouth. As if the silence itself was more of the bitter kind and less of the sweet. "Why the hell can't you leave me the fuck alone then…If you can't even speak your tongue, that is? Why can't you…just _back off_ and let me _die_ in goddamn peace?!"  

Arthur had raised his voice as well as himself, half sitting now in his bedroll, looking like some predator about to attack. His whole body language was threatening, showing that John wasn't welcomed and he would make sure to throw him out if John didn't choose to leave by himself. 

John had been more than patient with the other man. Arthur was like this most of the time even before they had left the gang, maybe not so angry but always showing contempt towards him…For obvious reasons really, that much John could understand. 

Near the end though, John believed they had been on friendly terms with each other but now everything had become worse for the other man and John didn't have it in him to hold Arthur’s behavior against him in any way. He wasn't in a good spot and his sickness wasn't the only reason.

John didn't return his anger, instead he gestured idly at him, at the whole inside of the tent. "You call _this_ dying in _peace_ _?_  'Cause it sure don't look or sound peaceful to me." John's voice was unwavering but on the inside he struggled with keeping a calm and respectful tone. If Arthur hadn't been…if he hadn't, they would have probably jumped each other already, shooting fists at each other until one of them were on the brink of death.  

"You're suffering, Arthur." John said it as a statement, not inclined to have it questioned either. 

"That’s just how it is", Arthur said with indifference, his voice almost as cold as the expression on his face.

John wanted to accept that answer but found that he couldn't in the slightest, _believing_ that there was some way to ease Arthur’s pain. Maybe spread some kind of happy into the rest of it, to the remainder of his life. "It don't have to be…"

"So what, you're gon…gonna find a way to _cure_ me or something, because I don't rightly follow." He laughed with an effort of sounding amused but there was an undeniable hollowness filling each sound of it.

John shook his head slowly as answer to that question, lowering his head completely like he was some child that could never earn his older brother's respect _._ "Why won't you just let me… Let _us_ be here for you the time that's…that's left…?" 

 _Because I don't deserve it_ , he thought automatically. Arthur was sure of that, especially now. He had told himself that _letting_ John be there for him was what he had wanted when he left the others. How wrong he felt he was now. 

John was certain that he himself had never spoken so calmly in his life up until this night. And he continued, seeing that Arthur persisted with remaining unaffected by his words. "Why does _everything_ gotta be a fight with you…?" He sounded as defeated as he felt, as if each word was more painful to utter than the last.

Arthur noticed as much and he truly wished he was dead already in that moment. This was too much for him…too draining. John's words echoed in his head like some distant memory even if he had just heard them. Words that, no doubt, would echo until there wasn't a mind left for them to haunt. "Fighting is all I've got left, Marston", he answered with a vague smile. "…the only part of me that's still _me_. All I ever did…just like Dutch."

John didn't settle with that answer, seeing right through him even if he shouldn't be able to. "You don't mean that. You _don't_ …"

Arthur huffed, shaking his head in disbelief when John kept questioning him. "Why the hell do you even _care_ about me?" he asked with the sincerest voice he could offer even if it was still filled with same intentional contempt as before.  _Why..._ _now?_ Arthur wanted to add but never did, certain that the _only_ reason was because the dark haired took pity on him because of the obvious. What else? 

John raised his chin slightly, blinking thoughtfully a few times before speaking. "…because you're _my_ _brother_ …and brothers look out for each other." No hesitation whatsoever, no hidden meaning behind the words. Just an undeniable honesty which made Arthur’s face soften. Enough for John to dare reach out his hand. 

Arthur wasn't prepared for the touch John gave him, for the hand that sought its way over his own and pressed enough to make it feel like a well needed hug. He stared at their hands blankly, equally saddened and happy for the answer John gave.

"And I guess no one deserves to die alone…"

Arthur’s wavering eyes hesitantly met John’s focused ones as the man answered his inner thoughts with the exact opposite of what was his truth. "Not even men like me?" he still found himself to ask with a low voice.

"Not even men like you…Like us."

\--

When he was about to crawl into his bedroll again, he heard a step right behind him and turned quickly around, already reaching for the shotgun he had placed near.

When he saw it was only Abigail who had gotten out of hers and Jack's tent, he gave a hastened smile and mumbled a sorry. She accepted the apology without second thought and sat down next to John on the bedroll.

"How is he?" she whispered, combing a few black locks behind her ear.  

John sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before he whispered back. "Not so good…He uh…was a bit lost… Aggressive too…it's the damn fever, you know."

"Well… Arthur always been pretty bad tempered haven't he?"

John let out a small chuckle and for a moment remembered the better years with the gang, when Arthur was above everyone else without even trying to. How respectful one was of him and did one's best to not step on his toes because that was just how intimidating the man could be at times. "Not quite like this though…" he said, killing the smile on Abigail’s lips as well as the one on his own. 

"I know what you meant…"

"I just wonder if this is what he _wants_. If he really wants to die in the middle of nowhere, on the run from the law and all…"  

"We're _all_ on the run, John…" she reminded. "But maybe they're not looking for us no more… After all, why would they?"  

John knew she had a point but still she too said they needed to be careful and lie low for a while longer than they already had. They couldn't afford to risk anything right now and staying alive was the only thing that mattered.

"Besides…being on the run from the law is all Arthur ever _has_ been…so in a way, there ain't much difference. I guess", Abigail added.

That was precisely John's _point_. The man had been hunted for the most part of his life and he wondered if it didn't tire him to spend the very last of it exactly the same, especially at this stage. "The man should have been put in a sanatorium a long time ago…maybe it would have made some difference…traveling like this…it ain't ideal for him."

Abigail watched him attentively, noticing how speaking of this affected John in a way she didn't expect at first, given the more distant relationship he had always had with the other man.

"If he's with us it's because he _wants_ to. The choices are not ours to make."  

John gazed at her, nodding slowly to let her know he agreed with her.

She smiled to him for a few moments and excused herself, preparing to head back to her tent but before she lifted herself up, she looked at him one last time before she placed a small kiss in the corner of his mouth. He hadn't the time to answer the touch before she parted her lips from him and smiled once more. He returned it this time, almost shyly. 

\-- 

Arthur guessed they believed he was either asleep or that they had spoken quiet enough for him to not hear. Sure, he only heard fragments but it wasn't too hard to figure out what the main subject was.

He had let John help him with cleaning himself, to wipe away all sweat he had managed to produce. It didn't matter much now because he was soaked again and he struggled with getting the shirt off his body, feeling too weak to even lift his arms up properly. 

When he eventually succeeded he sat up with his elbows rested on his lap and buried his face in his hands. He only wanted to take a deep breath to calm himself but he wasn't able to do so and he grunted from how impossible _everything_ was.

He knew he would be better in the morning, he only needed to sleep the worst off like he always tried to every night. Well, he _had_ to be better in the morning because the plan was to move their small camp again, not staying in the same place for too long. Both Abigail and John assured him it was _fine_ if he couldn't manage to ride, that they could stay for a while longer for _his_ sake. He straight up refused, not intending on slowing them down in any way.

At the same time, he wondered what would be when the inevitable _did_ happen. What would happen when he wouldn't be able to ride or move at all? Would he tell them to leave him or would he ask them to stay by his side? He tried not to think about it too much because it filled him with a despair he didn't want to have.  

He believed he had accepted his fate for the first time maybe a couple of weeks ago, or had at least told himself he had. Now, he knew it was getting closer with each day and he realised his time was running out in a faster rate than before. Hell…he could _feel_ it.

Arthur still had his face buried in his hands and he moved them up. He bent his fingers and gripped onto his hair and pulled until it hurt enough for him to feel it more clearly than anything else. His hair looked like it was dying as well and he guessed that in a way, it actually was. He didn't look at himself in the mirror anymore, there was no reason to, each reflection would only be more unrecognizable than the last.

He let go after a few moments and only stared into the darkness, the same thoughts running through his head like a loop. His hand absently drifted to the side, moving over the gun belt that lay across the ground. He gently pulled out the revolver that was holstered and rested the hand holding it in his lap.

Arthur’s face tensed as his hand started to shake somewhat only by the possibility to end it all right here and now. To not become the burden he no doubt would be very soon.

\--

Eventually, they had managed to stumble upon a small abandoned cabin a few days later when they continued traveling further west. Abigail did what she could with the place but everyone seemed content with only having a roof over their heads and proper beds to sleep in. It was after all like heaven for them in a way after several weeks in the woods. Jack didn't seem to be bothered with the frequent moves the past weeks, happily dragging his mother in hand to explore their surroundings in each new place. 

Arthur didn't show how much strength he had lost during the days' ride and he wasn't planning on it either. He knew he should be resting but allowing himself to do so was just another reminder of what he could and could not do anymore.

Even so, a part of him felt like fading away in some dark corner, just like the other night when John had come to him in the darkness. Another part felt like he should continue like normal until the very end, that also being what he actually had been doing since he first got his diagnosis. The difference then and now was that he didn't push himself just as hard, didn't _have_ to. Now he had the chance to regain his powers in a way he couldn't when they lived the life that was gone forever.  

He still persisted with doing his part though, so it didn't surprise John that when he said he was getting them food, Arthur was very determined to come along. John just assumed it was because the man was always restless, always needing to do something, _anything_. Otherwise, he would go _crazy_. 

"It didn't end so well last time we headed out", John reminded him carefully. "You should be resting, Arthur." He said it mostly because he knew the other man was in no shape to go out hunting but also because he wanted to hunt alone. It would be _better_ if he didn't have Arthur to worry about, given the last time.  

"I'm beyond that, Marston. That won't do any good for me no more."

"What if it does…?" 

"Does what? _Help?_ " Arthur stared at him incredulously. "You're real naive, you know that?"

John huffed and fought the urge to roll his eyes, wondering why he didn't just take off on his own in the first place when the man was still asleep. He felt himself lose the small patience he had left when Arthur refused whatever care John was willing to give.

"Let me ask you something, why _did_ you even come with us in the first place?" John asked with an angrier voice than intended. "If you're so _ready_ to die then why didn't you stay with the rest of 'em and, I don't know, _died?_ "  

He knew it was a low blow and that Arthur didn't deserve it in any way. Even so, the man treated himself like shit all the time so in an unhealthy way John told himself that this would make no difference.

Arthur couldn't answer at first, knowing exactly why he couldn't. He averted his eyes from the intense darkness in John's. "I went with you 'cause they left me to die. What fucking else would it be?" Partly true.

"Because _Dutch_ left you, you mean?" John pressed on. "Wasn't the gang… it was _him_ and him only that left you. The others had _nothing_ to do with it." Also partly true.

John had suddenly stepped into his space as to challenge him, too close for Arthur to be comfortable with and he found himself to hold his breath but not wanting to move away either. Arthur knew John was only spilling out the truth and he was still coming to terms with that each day that passed. Still tried to remind himself of that every time he regretted his choice of leaving, causing the downfall of the gang. Of Dutch.

They shared gazes for a while before Arthur moved away and took as deep breath he could manage before it became unbearable. "You shouldn't be so near me. It ain't safe", he murmured instead of encouraging the confrontation John had started.

The younger of the two crossed his arms, at first not so willing to let the subject go. Eventually, he forced himself to calm down and think of the bigger picture. They had always been each other's opposites in the gang, causing hundreds of disputes over the years and for once he didn't want that _at all._ Not now. So he merely nodded to the direction of their horses as to suggest they would hunt together after all.

\-- 

"You see them tracks up ahead?"

"Don't see shit", John answered and squinted his eyes to look at the spot Arthur pointed at.

"Don't matter if you don't, they're _there_."  

John shrugged his shoulders and gestured for Arthur to lead the way. The latter moved forward in a crouch and followed the animal tracks.

They moved quietly for a few minutes until they could make out a very small glade about twenty yards up ahead. They both kneeled and kept themselves hidden behind the thick grown trees as a male deer had its side to them, its head lowered as it ate on some plants. The rest of the herd could be seen standing spread around but none which stood so openly as the buck. 

The longer he watched it, the more Arthur felt some sort of calm spread through his body. He almost became spellbound by the creature, a heavy frown resting on his face as if he had experienced this before. If it was from dream or reality he couldn't say.

John studied the animal and gave a look to Arthur, asking him in silence if he should be the one to take the 'shot'. Only thing was that the older man didn't even see him in that moment, he didn't even took notice of him at first.

John waved with his hand to get Arthur's attention but none was given to him and the more seconds that passed, the more peaceful Arthur looked and became.

Eventually, John pulled once at the man's sleeve, making the man tear his eyes away from the buck with a perplexed look.

John frowned now, wondering what the hell was up with the other man as the latter's eyes watched him calmly. _"What?"_ John said the word so quietly that the click from his tongue to the roof of his mouth could be heard more than the word itself.

Arthur shook his head as his gaze sank to the ground, speaking just as quietly as the other. _"I…I don't know."_ Because he truly didn't.

The dark haired man shook his head impatiently and positioned himself properly with one careful movement, kneeling steadily. He raised the bow and kept a steady aim, preparing to pull back the string. He took one deep breath and did exactly so.

Arthur felt a sudden unease replace the harmony in his body and didn't hesitate in showing it. _"No."_

John glanced at Arthur in an instant, becoming unfocused and confused as he was just about to release his hold. He had a perfect aim and this would all be over within a second if he just took his shot but he started to doubt as he saw the doleful expression on Arthur’s face.

The older man had placed a hand on John's raised arm, the one which held the string back. Never once had he seen Arthur ask for anything all the years they had known each other but now…now the man was practically begging him to put the weapon away.

John looked one last time at the buck before he turned all his focus on the man next to him, twisting his body slightly to face him. He reluctantly lowered his bow and let it rest lightly across his thigh. Arthur’s hand was still on him and John didn't look away from the man’s icy blue eyes as one thumb started to rub on his arm. He did it gently but John couldn't feel much through the thick coat anyway.

He and Arthur had been sharing spaces on a mostly daily basis for almost fifteen years but it was only now that John felt like he really _saw_ him. He truly didn't know if he wanted to look away or not.

They had never held eye contact for too long or watched each other's faces so closely before and ever since Arthur had fallen ill, the man wasn't so comfortable with his appearance, always looking away when he felt he was being _examined_ for too long.

John swallowed when he saw how bloodshot Arthur’s eyes really were, noticing it more clearly in this light of day and close contact. Blood vessels had burst under his tired eyes, filling the pale skin with several red dots like the smallest freckles. His cheeks were hollowed out and not even the pretty short but soon uncontrollable beard could disguise what the weight loss had done to his face.

 _This is death. Death in its purest form._ John scared himself for thinking like that, felt guilty for even having the thought in the first place. Even so, it _was_ the truth. The sickness ate the man from the inside, taking away everything that once was Arthur until there wasn't an inch of the man left in this world.  

And John realised in that moment, that because of Arthur and his situation, he himself had turned into someone he was _not_ these last couple of weeks. Or maybe someone he was meant to _become_.

He knew he had always been the wilder of the two, the one who didn't take things as seriously or cared much about his fellow man. Something that separated him and Arthur greatly and what had also caused the several disagreements between them when they ran with the gang.  

But recently…as Arthur had started to _wither_ away he himself had realised how precious his own life actually was, how precious his family was. How he couldn't throw away a future that Arthur would never get to have. 

He realised he had been a fool for a long time, acting no more mature than a child for far longer than he had any reasons to. He had _responsibilities_ of his own now…he was the one that was trusted to look after  _all_ of them. 

 _And we_ _are_ not _dead,_ John told himself. _We are still alive_. And he would make sure it stayed that way, no matter the cost, no matter what sorrow _._

The buck meant something for Arthur but John didn't know what exactly. He could see that clearly even if he believed the man was delirious for a few moments. He could also see the man didn't want them to kill it but John knew whose lives he valued far more. So he only did what he needed to do. He merely blinked at Arthur with a form of sadness filling his heart as he decided.

Arthur couldn't really explain why he wanted them to leave the animal be. He knew they all needed food but he suddenly couldn't stand the idea of seeing it die before him, to be the one to cause its death.

During it all, Arthur couldn't help but wonder what went through the other man's head as they stared at each other's faces. He knew John was studying every inch of him but he didn't try to hide from the man's gaze this time because then _he_ wouldn't be able to _gaze at him_. He _wanted_ to see John like this, the only focus being on each other and nothing else. It had obviously not been his intention at first, neither was the desperate hand he had planted on the other's arm. It just happened and now he didn't even consider if he should lift it away or not. He absently started to caress his thumb over the rough leather on John's coat, not knowing why he suddenly dared to do such a thing.

Arthur felt tears starting to rise in his eyes, not because he was crying but because he was holding back a cough that badly needed a release. It tickled and hurt at the same time in his wrecked throat and the intolerable sensation spread to his ears and that so familiar rattling could be heard with each shallow breath he took.

He struggled internally but distracted himself by letting his eyes follow the small lines in John's forehead, the tense eyebrows and dark but kind eyes, his somewhat rough nose and the outlines of his lips. He had never had the chance to see him this close and undisturbed before.

He wanted to say something but eventually something shifted in John’s face, as if the man came to some conclusion in his head and Arthur truly wished he could understand what it meant. He got what he wanted when John suddenly said: "We need it, Arthur…"

Arthur frowned, not quite following given his thoughts had gone someplace else. Thoughts that an inch of him dared to hope John had too, despite how useless it was to think like that…considering the facts. He finally turned his head to look at the peaceful buck that naively raised its head.

John wasted no time and turned his body to face it properly again, lifting the bow and pulling back the string as quickly and hard he could before Arthur had the time to react.

Arthur flinched when he watched the arrow impale the buck's head and getting stuck in its skull. The animal took one staggering step to the side before it even fell to the ground, making the rest of the herd scatter in a second. 

For him, everything went still for a few moments and Arthur felt tears starting to rise in his eyes and this time it was all because of an indescribable sadness. He didn't blink, he only stared into the glade utterly defeated and opened his mouth slightly as to say something but never managed to.

John wasn't prepared for how devastated Arthur became of this and he only lowered his head, making the hat hide most of his face.

John watched from under his hat as Arthur sank down and lowered himself to sit, not looking like he was able to do more. John felt a bit guilty but still remained realistic. "I'm… I'm sorry, Arthur."

Arthur didn't even let out a huff like John had expected him to at the very least. Didn't even glare at him or shoot a fist at him. He did _nothing_ at all. Not even when the dark haired heaved himself up, seeming to head for the glade. Not even when he instead walked the two or three steps to Arthur and lowered himself behind him.  

Only when John pushed an arm to wrap around Arthur's chest did he react in some way. His eyes became unfocused as John hugged him from behind. Even more when he felt the younger man's head rest on the back of his shoulder and causing his hat move up an inch on his dark head. 

For John it felt natural to comfort the other, despite how awkward it felt at first. He could see that the man needed it as much as John would like to offer it, hoping he could make _some_ difference for the better.

Arthur closed his eyes and bit hard on his teeth from the touch that was the closest they had ever shared. _Would probably ever share._

Eventually, he allowed himself to thread his fingers together with John's that were placed over the ribs that never before had been so distinct on Arthur’s body.

\-- 

Arthur was more than somber on the ride back to the cabin which was very close now. John had stowed the dead animal on his horse and Arthur glanced at it for a few seconds at a time as their horses moved in a slow walk next to each other.

"We needed the meat, Morgan." 

"I know." Of course he knew that, it wasn't like he was gonna hold this against the other, despite how emotionally wrecked he had become when it happened. He couldn't explain it.

"You're probably the one who needs it the most."

"Don't want nothing from it." It came out close to a mutter. 

"You _gotta_ eat…"

Arthur sighed, knowing damn well he needed to eat. Only problem was that he didn't even _want_ to, a part of him felt like it was _impossible_ to do so.

"...and keep your strength up", John continued, Arthur not hearing what the man had said in between the two sentences.

Arthur turned his horse to a halt, making the other man do the same. "Quit your damn _lecturing_ , Marston, you don't get to decide for me or what I do. Not _now_."

Somehow those words seemed to affect John for he looked like a slap had hit him _hard._  Arthur didn't know what of the words that were so damn hurting. " _What_ , Marston? What is it no-"

"If _you_ got to decide then…" John interrupted, his voice softer than the other man had ever heard it, making Arthur stop in his own sentence completely. "...what would you want to do for the rest of it?"

Arthur wasn't quite ready for a question like that, the look on his face enough of a confirmation for the dark haired man.

John bit on his lip as to stop if from trembling. When Arthur looked away, John motioned his horse to move slowly before Arthur as to hinder him from an escape. He stopped and observed the man, seeking his face until Arthur was forced to meet his eyes again. "What do you _want_ , _Arthur…_?" he asked so genuinely that the other wasn't able to look away this time.

Arthur took notice of how John had used his first name more often than Morgan recently. And always when he needed to hear it being uttered just like this, like John was underlining the importance in the rest of the sentence. 

Arthur was thinking about taking off and ride the short way back to the cabin just to avoid answering but he decided that no…he couldn't run from this every time. "The truth?" he finally asked.

"Yes." 

Arthur hesitated at first, biting on the insides of his cheeks which made them even more hollowed out. "I don't even _want_ to…want to live anymore", he chuckled, emphasizing the utter irony in the answer. "And you know _exactly_ why…"

John wanted to say whatever to tell the man otherwise, to let him know the fault wasn't his. He also knew how little that would change so he only kept his silence. Arthur’s eyes had become glossy and his next words stuck on his tongue several times. 

"I'm… _dying_ and all I can think of is how damn slow it is… And I…I always expected to _go_ in some robbery gone wrong or… from some goddamn bounty hunter finally catching me off guard. Hell, even a damn bear or something… but _this?_ …no. Not so much." Arthur smiled with the same emptiness that had filled each and every laughter he had managed to offer lately.

John didn't say anything just yet. He hit a low when he heard Arthur speak, the man seeming so sure that what he couldn't avoid was what he actually wanted, also wanting it to happen even sooner. 

"Not what you expected, huh, Marston?"

"It pains me", was all John could offer to that question. "Pains me to see the great Arthur Morgan _give up._  That's not you."

"Giving up is all I've been good at lately. I gave up on the others, didn't I?" Arthur reminded him again.

"So did I."

"You did it for your family, John. I did it for myself."

John’s face became a little suspicious, a little uncertain. "You're _lying",_ he said plainly, unconsciously starting to learn of the truth Arthur was trying his very best to conceal.

"You believe what you want", Arthur huffed and motioned his horse to a walk and was about to pass John by when the younger man quickly moved Old Boy around to cut him off, making the two horses almost bump into each other.

"Outta the damn way, Marston", he said more tiredly than demanding, if it had been a threat it would have been empty. He sighed when John just stared at him with a stubbornness he believed the man had left behind at Beaver’s Hollow.

"Arthur."

Arthur couldn't say if it was a question or a demand. Maybe a bit of both, he figured.

"I'll ask you again…" John said. 

"Just don't…"

"...if _you_ got to decide…what would you want? For the _rest_ of it? Because we both _know_ …there ain't much left." The last few words came out in a whisper, a harsh truth John wasn't so fond in stating.

As John waited for a response, Arthur could see that the dark haired was breathing at a faster rate, but not as fast as his own heart had started to beat in his chest. It was so quiet for a few long moments and eventually John's face made him want to say anything just to make him stop.

"What I want would only make things wor-"

The words were interrupted with a sudden cough that was as malicious as it was violent, no possible way to hold one of that kind back. Arthur automatically covered his arm over his mouth and closed his eyes like so many times before as he believed they would pop out from the sheer force from each cough. 

Arthur grabbed at whatever with his free hand and settled with the mane of his horse in order to not fall off from it. John's eyes widened for half a second and he hurried to the man's side instinctively, not settling with staying in the background this time. He reached a hand out to keep Arthur balanced as the attack only got worse, the man struggling to even breathe. 

It blackened before Arthur's eyes and the last thing he remembered was John jumping off his own horse and desperately begging for him to _look at him._

\-- 

Arthur dreamed of Dutch almost every night these last weeks. Not only of him but of the family he had left behind too. He didn't know it but he shifted violently in the bed in 'his' room and John tried to calm him, considering to wake him up.

He didn't have to because Arthur’s eyes opened and blinked so rapidly, terrified almost. John’s eyes sank when he saw that he could just as well be a stranger to him. John remembered when he had suffered from fever dreams once, it was a long time ago now but he still knew how unpleasant they could be.

"Where’s Dutch, John?" Arthur asked, almost a bit demanding. It wasn't easy for him to breathe properly but as always, concealing his weaknesses had become Arthur's strength lately.

John closed his eyes from where he sat on the chair he had placed next to Arthur’s bed. He truly didn't know what to say but at least the man recognized him.

"John."

"I, I think you're still dreaming", he spoke quietly and opened his eyes to watch the feverish man who did his very best to understand. He took one deep breath as he decided to pull him back into reality for his own sake. "Dutch is dead, Arthur…as are our brothers. There's not many of us left. We might even be the last."

Arthur’s face twisted in pain of several kinds, fully comprehending it all over again like each time he awoke and was able to come to his full senses. He looked up to the ceiling and only stared, once more coming to terms with that he had let them all down because of his own selfishness.

"I killed them."

"You didn't… Micah did." John wished Arthur could realise the blame wasn't his, he hoped he could forgive himself before…before…

"I left them all behind…like a goddamn coward", Arthur said with contempt towards himself, remembering how he had put everything behind him that day. Night. He couldn't remember now.

"Oh but Dutch left you first." It was a cold statement but it was also the truth.

When it had happened a few weeks ago, John had believed Arthur as he said Dutch had ran away, leaving him for dead in that place in the oil fields. In turn, John had asked the dying man to come with them, Arthur being the one to beg them to leave in the first place after all.

What John wasn't prepared for was that Arthur had actually agreed, the four of them leaving right before that last train job. They missed out on a lot of money but Arthur said their lives were more important.

Shortly after, they had heard the news. Dutch and the rest of the men shot dead by the agency up at Beaver’s Hollow after the successful robbery, betrayed by one of their own.

Without speaking about it, both went through the recent events in their heads as to remind themselves of what had actually happened. Even John had a hard time processing it the first time.

They weren't the only ones that had made it, John would like to believe. Sadie said she would try to persuade the women to leave but if they had actually made it out, John didn't know for sure. Everyone would have to make choices of their own, just like he and Arthur had.

"Arthur."

The man slowly turned his head to him, his eyes redder than they had ever been, almost completely replacing the white in them. The wheezing sounds coming from his throat made John clench his fists tightly as to release the despair he felt within him with each breath Arthur tried to take.

Arthur waited for what John had to say, waited for himself to say something before his time ran out. But the truth was…that it was _always_ too late. He didn't know how long he had left but he knew it couldn't be more than a few hours and what made him change his mind completely was all over again because of John.

"If I…If I got to decide…" Arthur started, making John return the smile Arthur gave to him by pure willpower. "...I wouldn't want to die with a goddamn roof over my head…in a bed that isn't even my own. No…that ain't for me, John."

John tried hard to hold back the tears now but his eyes were still unwavering as they drifted through the window, seeing the darkness outside. "Okay", he agreed without hesitation. "Where then?"

"Anywhere." _Anywhere as long as you're with me._

\--

John doubted Arthur would make it there, he felt like he was making things worse as he agreed with Arthur's wish of taking them outside. The man had been passed out since the afternoon and now it was in the middle of the night, Abigail and Jack sound asleep in their room.

"Don't…wake them." Arthur didn't want to let the boy see him more than he already had. He couldn't imagine it was a sight that he would happily remember when he got older. On the other hand, Jack would probably not remember him at all.

Arthur had chuckled when John had timidly offered to carry him, shutting down that suggestion as quickly as possible. 

"I can still walk, dammit…" Arthur muttered as John kept a firmer grip on the man's waist and on the arm thrown over his shoulder.

"Just…let me make things easier for you...please, Arthur..."

Arthur didn't have the power to object this time.

As they managed to get outside, John helped Arthur get on Old Boy with precisely the effort that both were prepared for. Arthur kept himself balanced as John heaved himself up in front of him.

Arthur just sat there at first and John glanced over his shoulder after a few moments of inactivity. "What you waiting for?" he asked with a serious voice. "You're gonna fall off if you don't put your arms 'round me."

Arthur found it most ironic that the one time he would be able to put his arms around John was now, on their very last ride together. He snorted shortly but still let his hands seek their way around the dark haired man's body, both resting carefully against John's stomach.

"I'm sure you can do better than _that",_ John chuckled lightly, placing both his hands on top of each one of Arthur's, pulling at them so that his arms wrapped around him tighter. It caused Arthur’s chest to press a little tighter to John's back.

Arthur focused on his almost non-existent breathing instead of the heart beating a little faster inside him. He merely grunted and suddenly felt very exhausted, more than ever before. "Go, John…now", he urged quietly.

John took off, spurring Old Boy into a trot through the darkness. He didn't want them to ride too fast, the woods could be betraying in the night.

Arthur found himself to rest his head to the back of John's neck. Not only because he for the first time took his opportunity to inhale the scent that belonged to the man but also because he didn't have much strength to keep his head upright.

"Here it is", John said when they reached the Dakota River.

"A river, huh. You don't plan on burying me, I reckon."

" _Arthur_." John didn't appreciate the joke in any way, almost making Arthur feel a bit guilty about it even if it was on his own behalf. "You said 'anywhere' when…" John didn't have it in him to finish the sentence.

"I know…I know…" Arthur answered with a very strained voice.

This time, Arthur was being stubborn with getting off the horse on his own but managed to do it without much help. He continued by taking a few shaky steps at first as he started to walk to the river bank.

John followed behind, observing the man that would always be a riddle for him. Arthur gazed over the water for a few moments before lowering himself to his knees in the grass. He breathed in the fresh air as best he could, not even getting to enjoy that part.

The place was secluded and Arthur looked up at the half moon glowing in the dark sky. "We ain't that far from Horseshoe", Arthur breathed out, remembering it in the middle of it all.

John settled next to where Arthur had sat down. "No…we ain't."

"Things were good then…with the gang…before I decided to draw this upon myself." He gestured weakly at himself, thinking about what made him sick in the first place. "Even so…I deserved _every last_ _bit of it_..."

John wanted to say otherwise but chose not to, knowing that the change Arthur had made afterwards was something the man found peace in. It had been simple to say Arthur was suffering…but a part of John was sure that the man truly _wanted_ to.

A few drawn out coughs broke the silence and Arthur turned around to shelter himself, or more like to protect _John._  Arthur growled irritated as it ebbed out, his whole mouth filled with the familiar taste of blood. John could see the red glisten in the corners of Arthur's mouth but didn't say anything of it.

Arthur all but crawled away and placed himself with his back to the trunk of a large tree that grew close to the water, supporting himself to it.

The distinct wheezing had constantly been there, reminding them both of the lack of air Arthur was getting, both incapable of doing anything about it. "Feels like…breathing _water…_ " he told him, making John shiver from how excruciating it sounded. "Breathing _blood_ …"

John watched him with sympathy even if Arthur truly despised it. Arthur didn't mention the sorrowful expression he didn't want to see, he only leaned his head back, making his chin rise slightly as his eyes tried to focus on John.

"Can I…ask you…something?" he said between his shallow breaths.

"Anything", John whispered. 

Arthur didn't say anything at first, deciding if he really should ask or just let it be. He eventually did the first. " _Abigail_ …you _love_ her?"

John frowned, not quite prepared for that at all. Especially not now when…when they had more important matters than to speak of love… "I don't know", he answered truthfully. "I guess I…I _want_ to."

Arthur seemed disappointed by the answer, his face shifting into something the other man couldn't read. 

"She…loves _you..."_ Arthur stated, the words seeming to be harder to utter than any other.

"How do you know?"

"Oh, I _know_ …" Arthur said without a doubt in his voice, his chest moving up and down in a slower pace now, his gaze sinking to the ground for a few seconds before returning to the other man. 

John accepted the answer, seeing things a bit more clearly than he had before. Noticing the way Arthur’s eyes lingered, how the man had said the words  _'_ _I know'_ with a pain that wasn't of his sickness. 

"Try, John… _t_ _ry_ to love her…try to create something for the three of you…"

John lips trembled as he tried to hold back the tears, he lowered his head in a haste. He glanced at the man before him and bit on the inside his lip. "I will, Arthur…I will."

Arthur forced a smile again, tears welling up in his eyes, thinking that perhaps he was ready now. Ready to leave this life behind. Only problem was that wishful thinking only got you so far. 

"Can I ask  _you_ something?" John asked, a single tear escaping him, causing a glistening line down his cheek.  

"You can ask…but I might no…might not give you a good answer…" Arthur offered, suspecting what John's question would be about and wondering how many more times he himself would be able to keep the truth from them.

John nodded, trying to accept the answer that otherwise would have made him irritated. Now…whatever Arthur wished was his right and nothing else. Was John's responsibility to see them through.

"You never answered why you left with me in the first place…and don't say it was because of the gang falling apart…" John's voice was very unsteady now, the first time it had been since…since anytime with the other man. "I was always certain that you would stay behind, no matter what... So tell me…why didn't you?"

Arthur wasn't surprised that John asked him again, he had been very vague about it but he could see that John was starting to understand, or at least trying to. "I think you already know _why_ , John..." His voice was the unsteady one this time but he made no effort to hide just how difficult it was to speak the words. "It's obvious really…if you had just paid some…attention. It is what it always _have_ been…for _me._ "  

It was enough of an answer for John and he suddenly felt very low from the small confession of deeper feelings he didn't know if he shared with Arthur. Had never given it a thought until recently and somehow he felt a bit hurt with the man, trying to accept that it was only now he chose to tell John what he had always meant for him.

"Back then…I told myself that I…wanted to spend my final days…with someone that meant something for m…" Arthur closed his eyes and focused on his breathing more intensely than before, it was becoming more painful and he put one trembling hand over his chest before he tried to continue. "...to not give my life for someone that jus…as well could be the one to end it…"

Arthur’s eyes drifted up to the sky, somehow feeling that it wasn't his guilt to carry anymore. In that moment, Arthur came as close he could to embrace his loyalty to _love_ as much as he accepted the fate that had been dealt to Dutch and the others. Both his mind and soul were slowly reaching an equilibrium and for them both, it was a most beautiful thing.

Several tears had escaped John’s wide eyes as he listened to the other man’s weak slurring, watching him come to terms with…the _rest_ of it. To finally get the peace he deserved through the self-forgiveness he had never been capable of.

John did it as an instinct, moved more closer to Arthur than he should. Arthur blinked his eyes and turned his head to the side as he felt John there. The dark haired gave him half a smile that was as soothing as it was beautiful for the other.

"You shouldn't be so near me…" Arthur tried, speaking in another direction than John’s face.

A dark part of John thought that what if he already had the sickness…the both of them had been in a closer contact than they should have been these last few days. Another part of John felt certain that no, it wasn't possible because everything he somehow wished they could share, had they never done.

John started, for the first time, stroking his fingers through Arthur's now slightly matted hair, not as golden and alive as it once had been. Arthur leaned into the touch as the warm hand carefully cupped his cheek, fingers gently brushing over his fading skin.

No one spoke when the younger man pulled him into his arms and both lay down in the damp grass together, John placed behind him.

Arthur didn't object when John's hand sought its way under his coat and felt at his chest over the fabric of the shirt underneath. The dark haired closed his eyes harder when the palm of his hand could make out the small bursts of vibration in Arthur’s chest. The coarse crackles and wheezing that was working together, creating a sound that John believed he would never be able to forget for the rest of his life.

Arthur felt John's tears drip down in the back of his neck to where the younger man had buried his face and it tore a new hurt in him. He himself couldn't afford to start crying now, couldn't waste his breath on it. He threaded his fingers together with John's and guided their hands away from his dying chest to rest outside his coat instead. 

Eventually, John was starting to drift in and out of sleep and Arthur felt alone at the same time he couldn't be more at peace. He looked up to the dark sky and the fading stars that were sprinkled across it and figured it would be morning within a few hours. He tried to fall asleep but it was impossible to do so after all. He guessed that _going_ in harmony was never an option.

\--

Arthur was afraid when it happened, it was never something to be denied. He frowned and blinked rapidly when he wasn't able to breathe anymore. He tried to draw for breaths but only got minimal oxygen and he was starting to drown and suffocate at the same time.

" _John…"_ It barely made a sound. 

Arthur wasn't able to hold back the tears this time. He shakily lifted John’s arm away from his body and made a small attempt to crawl away. He rolled to lie on his back when he couldn't go further, his eyes starting to watch a brightening sky. 

The sight was replaced with John's panicked eyes running over all of him when the younger man moved above him, warm hands cupping his cheeks as to beg him to stay _awake_.

 _I...I don't_ _know what to do, Arthur…_ was all John desperately could think as Arthur tried to gasp for air, his eyes steady and small drops of tears streaming slowly down his temples each time he now calmly blinked.

Arthur didn't look away from John once, neither did the latter from him. John squeezed Arthur's hand harder than intended but the older man pressed back with the very last strength he had.

John’s heart dropped with every struggling sound that escaped the other man and he had never felt quite so shattered as now, hoping he would never feel this again.

It was easy to think of it as something awful, something terrifying or even unfair.

It was difficult to see any kind of beauty in a suffering that no man deserved to endure.

But as John saw Arthur _embrace_ his slow death, he chose to _smile_. Only enough to earn a weak smile back from lips now stained with blood.

As much as Arthur tried to _let go_ , his betraying body still worked to keep him alive, causing him to constantly try to draw for breaths he couldn't have. John and Arthur's hands could just as well have been one when his body cramped through the final moments of his life.

Arthur felt peaceful as everything slowly darkened before him at the same time the world he was leaving became brighter, coming alive. He was glad John smiled, he didn't want to see this break him apart or hear the sound of a defeated crying as the last thing…last thing in this life. He was just content with having someone he cared for by his side as he gave in. He tried to smile back. 

The complete silence that followed was haunting for John after the other man’s body had fully relaxed and turned still. He ran his fingers through Arthur's hair, not fully comprehending that his life had left him. Arthur’s eyes were blank, not responding in any way anymore and John covered the back of his hand over his mouth, the hand shaking violently as he started to cry.

When the sun started to rise, John lifted his head from where he had buried his face onto Arthur’s chest. He sat next to his body and watched the older man’s peaceful expression, happy that he finally got to _rest_. John squinted up at the sun, his cheeks were streamy with a brighter shade from the tears that had run down his somewhat dirty skin.

\--

John breathed heavily, wet dirt sticking on to the skin of his hands, under his nails. He put down the shovel. He was freezing but sweating, his warm breaths showing in the cold morning air each time he exhaled. He hunkered down in front of the grave that was Arthur's, he had just buried him and only stayed there for a few long minutes.

He believed he would never fully comprehend what Arthur had meant for him in the end, it had been equally confusing and certain. Like he didn't understand a thing but at the same time understood it _all_. Even if he wouldn't know what he felt, John at least knew what _he_ had meant for _Arthur_. What he had always been for him.

It was easy for John to think of the irony in it all. Easy to think of it as some tragedy. But the more he reflected over it, the more at peace he became, knowing that Arthur was too. They did what they could with the time they were given. 

John put on his coat and hat and smiled one last time before he returned to the family he would learn to love fully for the rest of his days.

 


End file.
